Breathing for a Reason
by the ness-ness
Summary: Tha Phantom finds a woman in his lake. When she wakes up, she panics and withdrawls into herself. Can he draw her back out? Or will he send her scurrying into the dark corners of his home?
1. Our character finds herself dead

Her friends stood around her, wishing her good luck on her trip. Her little brother, only five years of age, sat on her hip as she smiled and laughed at their jokes.

"Joey? Do you want to want to get going?" she asked, smiling down at the small boy in her arms. He giggled and nodded.

"Can we? Uncle's waiting you know, Marie."

Marie just laughed and nodded. Without further ado, she finished her good-byes and placed him in the back seat of her car. Sliding in the driver's side, she glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure he was buckled in and, when she was sure, she turned the key, starting up the car.

"So Joey; what do you want to listen to?" she asked, glancing once more in the mirror.

"Phantom of the Opera!" the little boy shouted. Marie chuckled a little and grabbed the CD from the passenger seat.

"All right then. Which number, Hun?"

"Masquerade!! Play Masquerade!!! Please Marie!!"

This time the twenty-seven year old woman let out a laugh as she placed the CD in the slot on the dashboard and turned it to the right number.

"You always chose that song Joey. Why do you like it so much?"

The youngster pouted in thought, tapping his chin.

"Because it's where the Phantom gets all mad and stuff and he's jealous that Chrissy's marrying Raoul and he loves her and he just wants to have someone love him but that isn't going to happen and he knows it and you know it and I know it and so he tries to get his way by kidnapping her and taking her to his home and----"

Marie cut him off, laughing. "Chill, Joey! Breathe, baby boy, breathe. I now know not to ask you that question ever again."

The song began and Marie cracked a smile as she heard Joey singing along with the song. His voice wasn't operatic or anything like that but it didn't matter. (Give him a break people; he's only five.) He was having fun, that's what counted.

Marie smiled and hummed the music under her breath. Hey, it was a catchy tune.

_Masquerade!_

_Paper faces on parade…_

_Masquerade! _

_Hide your face, _

_So the world will never find you!_

_Masquerade!_

Joey belted out the chorus with all his might, making his sister join him. Marie humored him and lifted her voice to blend with his.

_Masquerade!_

_Grinning yellows, spinning reds…_

_Masquerade!_

_Take your fill--_

_Let the spectacle astound you!_

_Masquerade!_

_Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!_

_Masquerade!_

The song neared its end as they turned into their Uncle's driveway. Marie put the car in park and let the song continue to run. Joey softly sang the last bit of the song alone.

_Masquerade!_

_Every face a different shade!_

_Masquerade!_

_Look around—_

_There's another mask behind you!_

_Masquerade!_

_Burning glances, turning heads…_

_Masquerade!_

_Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!_

_Masquerade!_

_Grinning yellows, spinning reds…_

_Masquerade!_

_Take your fill—_

_Let the spectacle astound you._

The song ended and Marie turned the car off, cutting the CD off right before the last note ended. Joey whined from the back seat.

"MARIE!!! It wasn't over!"

"It was close enough, Joey. Come on. Uncle's waiting." Marie unbuckled herself and got out of the car. Joey followed, reluctantly. Locking her car, they walked hand in hand to the front door.

Before they even knocked, the door was flung open and they were engulfed in a big bear hug.

"You don't know how much this means to me! You guys are going to love spending weekend with me!" came a deep voice from above Marie's head. The arms released them and they were able to breathe again.

"Uncle John, you know we would have come out even if you hadn't tempted us with your boat," Marie said, giggling slightly.

"Uncle John!!" cried Joey as he clung to his uncle's leg. His face expressed how happy he was to his beloved uncle again.

Uncle John smiled and led them inside. Marie excused herself to get their luggage form the trunk. When she got back, her uncle and Joey were packing things up and carrying them to the dock near the house.

"We're already going?" she asked surprised.

John looked at her and grinned. "Of course. Did you really think that we would be spending the night in my house?"

Marie let out a small laugh. "No way. That place is barely clean enough for you to live in it."

Uncle John let out a bark of laughter at her comment. Taking her suitcase from her, he turned around and worked his way to the boat.

Marie made her way over to her brother, who was standing on the end of the dock looking at the clear water below. He tipped a little far and would have fallen in if Marie hadn't grabbed him by the arm.

"Be careful Joey. You don't know how to swim yet, remember?"

He just smiled up at his sister and laughed his childish laugh. "I know. Come on! Let's go to the boat! Uncle John was just waiting for our suitcases, you know."

He wiggled out of Marie's grip and ran off to board the boat. Marie chuckled under her breath and followed only slower and shaking her head in amusement.

Hours after disembarking from the dock, a storm had begun. The boat rocked violently causing Marie and Joey to scurry into the under belly. Uncle John had pulled down the sails and set the boat on autopilot keeping them somewhat on course.

"Uncle John? When is the rain going to stop?" Joey whined.

"Don't know, buddy. We just have to wait it out. How about we play a game of Go Fish?"

"Alright! Let's play! I'm gonna win!!" Joey ran about, trying to find the pack of cards that he knew his uncle kept in the boat.

Marie smiled then turned to her uncle.

"How do you always manage to do that? Whenever I try that he ignores me and goes off on a random tangent."

John shrugged. "Maybe he just likes me more."

"Oh please. He just likes the fact that you have a boat." Her teasing tone made John smile. Her rarely say his niece and nephew, but when he did it was as though they were his own children.

"Where did he go?" Marie looked around anxiously, wondering where her brother had gone off to. The under belly of the boat wasn't that big and Joey was nowhere to be found.

"He better not have gone outside…" mumbled Uncle John.

Marie's eyes widened as she realized where he was. Without a thought, she raced up the stairs and out into the storm.

"JOEY!!" she yelled over the storm. She didn't hear a response but that was understandable considering the sound of rushing water invading her ears.

She clung to the ropes and wires as she scanned the area for her brother. The rain came down harder and she nearly slipped over the edge twice before seeing a darkened form clinging desperately to the helm. She worked her way over to it and wrapped her arms around him.

He turned his head up and stared at her, fear evident in his eyes. She gave him a reassuring smile and started to move toward the doorway. They made it and she pushed him into the boat's belly.

"You shouldn't have gone out there, Joey. It's not safe."

"Sorry…"

Marie stood in the doorway, holding onto it with all her might. She grimaced as a violent rock of the boat nearly made her loose her grip.

"Marie, get in here! Before you get washed over---" Uncle John was cut off as a wave grabbed Marie and pulled her over the side.

"**MARIE!!!!**"

"**MARIE!!! NOOOO!!!!**"

Marie couldn't here their desperate shouts. She was pulled under the waves only to resurface for a few seconds before being pulled under once more. She couldn't hold her breath for long. It let out with a sigh and she panicked.

Water flooded her lungs and she began to sink to the bottom. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to stay awake. She fought the feeling of coldness that had begun to crawl up from her feet. She lost. The feeling over took her and her eyes closed. With the final molecule of air exiting her lungs, she sunk to the bottom of the body of water.

The funeral was a small affair. Only friends and family were allowed in.

The priest gave a beautiful service and the eulogy was given by Marie's childhood friend Kathy.

Tears filled the room as everyone passed the empty casket. Marie's body hadn't been found so the service was a closed casket one.

Joey was the one who was inconsolable. He hadn't stopped crying for three days. Uncle John had him in his custody and had been trying to comfort the boy ever since the incident. Joey was convinced that it was his fault.

As they stood outside watching the casket being lowered into the ground, Joey started to sing under his breathe.

"_Masquerade!_

_Paper faces on parade…_

_Masquerade!_

_Hide your face,_

_So the world would never find you!_

_Masquerade!_

_Every face a different shade…_

_Masquerade!  
Look around—_

_There's another mask behind you!"_

John put his arm around the boy and pulled him close to his side. They were both going to miss Marie. May she rest in peace.


	2. Our character finds herself alive

Marie's eyes shot open as she took in a deep breath. She sat up gasping in lung after lung of air.

"JOEY!" she cried, her eyes darting around her looking for the young boy. Her face expressed her fear and concern. But she didn't see her brother or her uncle. In fact the only thing that she saw was a man in a bone white mask watching her.

"Where am I? What happened? Where's Joey?" she asked frantically.

The man just looked at her, saying nothing.

She noticed that she was lying on a couch wrapped in a warm blanket. Her hair and clothing was still soaking wet and Marie noticed that there was only candle light in the place. Where was she?

"Please, tell me how I got here." Her voice was so soft that it nearly was inaudible. The man just looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

She tried to jump off the couch in frustration but the blankets were tightly wrapped around her and she fell to the ground instead.

"Damn blankets! What was going through your mind when you did this?!" she fumed as she struggled against the constricting material.

The man stood and walked toward her. She watched him out of the corner of her eyes taking in his confident stride and flowing cape. His clothes seemed rather odd as well. Tight black pants and a ruffled white shirt like that in the 1800's.

She paused in her struggles when he leaned down and grabbed an edge of the blanket and pulled. She unrolled from it as though she were Cleopatra coming out of her rug. Slowly picking herself up from the cold ground, she shook off the dizziness that assailed her.

"Would you please warn me next time you do something like that?"

The only answer she got was a snort. She whirled around and stalked toward the strange man. Marie got with in an inch of his face. Scowling, she poked him hard in the chest.

"This is not a snorting matter, sir. I am serious. I have no idea where my brother or my uncle are and I'm unnerved with the fact that I have no idea where I am. So if you would be so kind as to tell me exactly where I am, I will leave immediately."

Marie backed up a little and took a deep breath. She hadn't meant to do something so rash, but he had pushed her buttons without even meaning to. Coupled with the fact that she was sure that she had died seemed to give her ample reason to freak out.

The man just stared at her a malicious glint in his eyes. Which, Marie noticed, were green. He walked up to her, invading her personal space as she had done only a few seconds ago.

"Madam, you are in my home. I have no idea who your brother and uncle are, but they are not here. You were the only one that I found in my lake and you were nearly dead."

His voice was hard and cold, no where near the kind of voice that Marie was expecting. His eyes were as hard and cold as his voice which gave her reason enough to step back a few inches.

His words sunk in, causing Marie to narrow her brown eyes at him; he just looked down his nose at her.

"I am _**not **_a 'madam'," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the word. "For your information, I'm single and loving it. Now where's the front door? I'll be leaving now."

Marie glanced around her, not seeing any doors of any kind and faintly wondering where there was water in the room. Her eyes widened a little as she realized that was the lake that the man had spoken of. Why he had a lake in his house she couldn't help but wonder.

"There is no front door. And you will not be going any where until you tell me how you came to be in this place."

Marie glared at him. "I thought that you said that I was found in your lake?"

He raised his eyebrow again. "I did. But how did you get under the opera house? You are not one of the workers in it nor are you one of the performers. So how did you find this place?"

Marie's look of anger was replaced by one of confusion. "Opera house? There's no opera house in Texas. At least the part I live in…"

"Texas? Mademoiselle, you are in France, Paris to be exact. Not this Texas place that you speak of."

"But… but that's were I fell into the water at. I was in Texas. I was in the water in Texas, sinking to the bottom. I know I was…" Marie trailed off, her thoughts confused and jumbled.

The man watched her interested in the emotions crossing her face. Confusion, panic, sadness, hopelessness. They all flashed before his eyes.

Marie hugged herself, rubbing her arms slowly. She felt how slimy her skin felt and cringed at the sensation. Material touched her shoulders and she jumped. The blanket was draped across her shoulders and she looked up at the man who now stood behind her.

He just gave her a soft push in the direction of the couch.

"Sit. I will bring you something to warm your bones." And he was gone.

Marie sighed and sat on the couch softly. She shivered and once again wondered how she had gotten from Texas to Paris. She still didn't believe this man, who had yet to tell her his name.

A cup was placed in her hands and she looked up, startled. Green eyes stared back. The man gestured that she should drink.

Hesitantly, Marie took a sip. The warmth of the tea invaded her body and a soft smile graced her lips. Without meaning to, a slight sigh escaped her mouth. She loved tea of any kind. It was one of her comfort foods.

"So you believe that you are from this place…what was it called again? Texas?" the man asked, seeing that his sudden question had made her jump once more.

Marie shot him a glare will taking another sip of the tea. "I _**am**_ from Texas. You have given me no proof that I'm not in it anymore. Until I have that proof, I shall continue to believe that."

"Is this enough proof for you, woman?" he snarled as he threw a pamphlet at her. It landed next to her and she picked it up, her hand shaking slightly.

It read thusly:

**Opera Populaire presents **

**HANIBAL **

**In which La Carlotta shall once again astound **

**Her audience wit her musical prowess. **

**Tickets can be purchased at the ticket booth on the side of the **

**Opera house. **

**Show times will be given there.**

Marie let the paper drop to the ground, her eyes full of confusion and disbelief. It was there on paper; the date, the city, everything. How had she gotten to Paris?

The man studied her, waiting for some sort of reaction. There was no screaming, no running around, nothing. She just sat there in shock. He muttered something to himself before walking over to her.

"What is your name, woman?"

Marie's face snapped up, her vision slightly blurred due to the invasion of tears. She sniffed and rubbed her hand across her eyes. Looking back at the green eyed man, she stood, albeit a little wobbly.

"Marie. My name's Marie." Her voice shook, although she tried to cover it up by speaking slowly and enunciating each word.

"What's yours? Your name, I mean." His eyes seemed to harden even more at her question. He turned his back on her and glared at the wall, as though trying to put a hole in it with his gaze.

Marie watched him, wondering if he was going to answer her. She nearly gave up hope that he was, when his voice cut through her thoughts.

"Erik."

"Excuse me?"

The man turned back to her and nearly made her wilt with the anger in his eyes.

"My name. It is Erik."

Marie shrank back, nearly falling back onto the couch. She just nodded, her eyes on the ground below her.

Her tea was still warm and she took another sip. It was good; much better then the stuff that she had at home. It smelt of cinnamon and apples; she wondered briefly where he had gotten it.

Erik sat across from her in one of the plush chairs that were scattered about the place. Marie leaned back and closed her eyes. She still hadn't grasped that she was no longer in her time period or her home town anymore.

Her wet clothes weren't help much either. They had all but dried and were sticking to her damp body. She shivered again, this time from the cold air in the room. She wondered if it really was as big as it looked.

Erik watched her as she slowly drifted off to sleep. Once her head rolled to one side, he stood and placed another blanket on her. Carefully, he placed her on her back so she wouldn't wake with a stiff neck.

Walking away, he paused when he heard a soft snore come from her prone figure. Giving a small smirk, he continued on his way to the upper portions of the opera house to pay a visit to the performers.

Not a pleasant one either. This was purely business.

Marie, unaware of whom she had been saved by, shifted in her sleep, curling tighter into the blankets that had been lent to her by the Phantom of the Opera.


	3. Our character finds herself alone

Her sleep was light and dreamless. When she woke, Marie felt refreshed and relaxed. That lasted about as long as it took her to look around at her surroundings.

She screamed.

It wasn't one of those high pitched girly screams either. Oh no. She screamed from the heart; a long, loud, horror flick scream.

Marie had hoped that it was all a dream. But everything hit her at once as soon as she realized that it wasn't.

A hand clamped down itself over her mouth effectively silencing her. Marie looked down at it slightly confused as to why it smelt of leather.

"Stop your screaming. Do you want the entire Opera Populaire coming down here?" a harsh voice whispered in her ear.

She shivered slightly, the shaking of her body conveying her fear. When the hand slipped away, Marie turned and found herself staring into the intense green eyes from before.

"This is just a dream. A bad dream, but a dream nonetheless," she mumbled, pulling the blanket closer to her.

"I assure you this is no dream. You are in my home and in my presence. I am real." Erik walked around the couch, only stopping for a moment to touch her softly on the shoulder. Marie jumped at the contact.

The phantom sat in one of the chairs that were scattered around the open area and watched the woman on his couch. She was shaking, the blankets pulled even tighter around her body. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her eyes had closed themselves, blocking out the candle light. She was denying everything.

"Madam Giry should be here soon," he stated softly. Marie whimpered a bit before opening her eyes slightly.

"Who's she?" she whispered.

Erik shot a look at her before answering. "She is the dance instructor of the Opera Populaire. She is also the only one that I trust with my existence among other things."

"So she's a friend of yours?"

Erik didn't answer. Madam Giry wasn't a friend; only a tool that he could use to get what he wanted. At least that's what he told himself.

The woman had curled back up into her fetal position. She was shaking even harder now and she appeared to be rocking back and forth.

He sighed. He'd have Madam Giry deal with her when she arrived.

"Erik? Why did you ask me to come down here at this time of night?"

The Phantom looked up and gave the older woman a tiny smile. She had her warp pulled tight around her shoulders; it was cold in the cellars where he lived.

"I have a rather interesting problem, madam. If you would be so kind as to do what you can with her, I would be much obliged." He waved distractedly at the woman on his couch.

Madam Giry's eyes widened and she moved over to Marie quickly.

"My dear girl, why are you crying? What happened?" the older woman asked.

Erik rolled his eyes. "It's no use, madam. She will not calm down. At least for a while. Now if you would just take her up to the dormitories---"

"Erik I cannot just take a young woman up into the dormitories, just because you say so. You know I can't. This young woman needs to be comforted and you know I have little time on my hands to do so. You'll have to take care of her."

Erik stared at the older woman in shock. "Me? Take care of that? Are you insane?!"

Madam Giry sighed and distractedly rubbed the woman's back soothingly. "Apparently. We have no where to put her, and you know it."

The phantom huffed and then gave her a sharp nod.

"Fine. She's stays. But only until she finds a way back to her home. Wherever that is." 

Marie looked up at the man sitting across from her, her eyes red and her face blotchy. He was willing to let her stay? But she thought that he hated her…

"Good. Now I have to get back up there before they notice that I'm missing. Erik, please make sure she gets rest in a bed. She's running a fever." Madam Giry stood and began making her way through the tunnels back to her room.

Marie watched as the woman turned the corner and then put her head back on her knees. She just wanted to go home. That's all.

Erik sighed and stood. Softly, he walked over to her and gently lifted her head.

"I'll make you some tea," he said, wiping away some of her tears with his thumb.

Marie just stared at him as he pulled away and walked into one of the back rooms. This guy was so confusing. One minute he's mean as heck and the next he's nice. Was he bipolar or something?

A few minutes past before Erik walked out with a tray of tea in his hands. Setting it down, he poured a cup for him and Marie. He pressed her cup into her hands gently, not wanting it to spill onto the rug.

Marie held it tightly, keeping her eyes focused on the cup as though it were the only real thing in the world. Sighing, she took a sip and nearly choked.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Are you all right?"

Marie spared him a timid glance and nodded slightly before taking another sip. She was nervous; but could you blame her? Sitting across from the Phantom of the Opera; a man who could kill her right then and there if he wanted to.

She had had doubts but when Madam Giry came in and comforted her it all snapped into place.

She _**was**_ in France.

Erik _**was**_ the Phantom of the Opera.

She was _**totally**_ alone.

The thought alone caused her eyes to tear up again. Sniffing she looked up at Erik, who was watching her between sip from his own cup.

"Do you have an extra room I could stay in?" she whispered.

Erik mentally started when she spoke then nodded. Standing, he held out his hand to her.

"Come."

Marie set her cup down and carefully took his hand, pulling herself off the couch. She nearly stumbled, her legs on pins and needles from staying in the same position for so long.

Erik pulled her after him, not noticing the slightly oddity in her step. His feet lead him to a forgotten room, a painful room. He opened the door and practically whipped her into it. His eyes caught sight of the black swan bed before her face blocked his view.

"This is where you will stay for now. You are not to go into any of the other rooms, with the exception of the kitchen and the main living quarters, which you were in before. I take my leave, mademoiselle."

With a bow and a twirl of the cape, Erik closed the door and made his way to his room.

Marie stared at the door. And then reality crashed down around her.

With a strangled sob, she fell to the floor in a heap. Tears poured down her face and she wiped them away as fast as she could.

She had to rely on herself now, there was no way around it. Her uncle wasn't there to help support her; her brother wasn't there to cheer her on when things got tough. It was all on her shoulders.

Picking herself off the floor, Marie stumbled to the bed and fell on it. Curling into a ball, she cried herself to sleep.


	4. Our character finds herself enlighted

Marie woke to the soft strands of a familiar song drifting into her ears.

Slowly, her head rose from the pillow, her eyes bleary and filled with the gunk that one gets after sleeping. She rubbed at them fiercely, clearing her vision. Marie blinked a few times before reaching out and touching the black lace type fabric that was obscuring her view.

Without warning it was pulled away and angry eyes stared down at her. She clutched the blankets to her body protectively; not exactly sure what the man was capable of when he was like this.

Erik's eyes did not soften in the least when he saw how red and puffy her eyes were. He had heard her crying during the night and had come close to just leaving his home for the night.

If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was a crying woman.

He pointed to the bedside table, still looking at Marie with narrowed eyes.

"You will change into that. Madam Giry believed it prudent to give you a change of clothes. When you are done washing up and changing, meet me out in the living area."

He turned, his cloak swishing behind him and left, the door closing behind him loudly.

Marie crawled over to the side of the bed and poked the clothing. When it didn't rise up and try to eat her, she got out of the bed and held the dress up to herself.

It was simple. A solid dark green color which suited her well; long enough so as not to show any leg; a normal collar, nothing cut too low or too high as well as an easy way to fasten it.

Marie looked back at the table and was pleasantly surprised to find soap and the like in a little basket waiting for her use. There was a note on the top of the objects stating, in beautifully written letters, that there was a bathroom to her left and that a bath had been drawn for her. It was signed '_Erik_'.

She looked at the closed door and smiled softly. The man really was kind underneath it all.

Placing the dress down on the bed carefully, Marie walked over to the door and leaned against it, her face and palms pressed against the wood. She closed her eyes before whispering a thank you.

As she moved away and all but ran to the small bathroom, the Phantom stood on the other side of the door stiffly.

Her whispered words floated through his head on a continuous loop, barely leaving him room to wonder what he had done to merit such thanks.

"What a strange woman," he muttered as he moved toward his organ.

Marie sat in the tub until the water began to cool, fearing that once it was cold she'd find herself back in that stormy lake, being pulled under.

Thankfully the dress was a simple slip on affair, so Marie didn't have to worry about any nasty little clips or snaps and the like to get help from the man.

And when she thought of him, the Phantom's angry gaze popped into her mind as though he was there with her at the moment. She jumped a little at the intenseness of the memory and then composed herself.

"Okay Marie. You can do this. You've had your cry; now you gotta suck it up. You're in Paris. With the Phantom of the Opera. You can do this."

Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the door and placed her hand on the knob.

"You can do this," she mumbled as she turned it.

Peaking out of the door, she found that the Phantom was sitting at a large organ that was placed against a wall so as to be out of the way. He was just sitting there, staring at the blank score sheets.

She tip-toed over to him, not wanting to interrupt him if he was, in fact, working on something important. As soon as she reached his side, however, his hand grabbed a nearby quill and quickly dipped in ink before scratching out a flurry of notes.

Marie stepped back in surprise as his hand fairly flew across the pages, note after note being churned out as she watched.

Realizing that he had no idea that she was there, she let out a soft sigh and turned to sit in one of the high backed chairs that were nearby. As she deftly curled into one, she watched as the man tried out one of the combinations he had so hurriedly written.

To her untrained ears, it was beautiful. But even she could tell that there was something missing; something lacking.

"What is it?" she asked herself quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

The music crashed to a halt, as the Phantom whirled around to face her. His eyes were distinctly tinted red and his rage poured off of him in waves. Marie felt herself trying to disappear into the back of the chair, trying to get away from his negative emotion.

"What did you say?" he hissed out.

Marie took a deep breath before answering. After all, if she was already dead, what could kill her?

"I was just wondering what was missing…It doesn't feel right. The music, that is. I'm sorry if I interrupted you."

She spoke so softly that Erik almost didn't hear her, but he managed. He turned back around and carefully placed his forehead on the organ's keys. They gave off a muted hum of sound, and he closed his eyes.

She was right. His piece was missing something and he knew what it was.

Soul.

Life.

Christine.

He missed her so much that his heart constricted in pain every time he thought about her, every time he looked at the mannequin of her that was stored away in his room. Every time he remembered the touch of her lips on his.

His hands gently caressed the ivory keys before he angrily slammed them down, making a horrendous noise. Marie quickly covered her ears and shut her eyes, afraid that he may turn on her without a moment's notice.

But when she opened her eyes, the Phantom was no longer sitting in front of the organ nor was he anywhere in the room. Marie was alone in his underground home and she found herself wondering if, maybe, she was a reminder of his past, of something he wanted to forget.

Marie got up from the chair and slowly moved over to the abandoned instrument. Sitting on the bench, she pulled the sheet music down from its perch and looked it over.

Marie knew next to nothing about notes and other such music things, but she could tell from the way the notes flowed together on the page, the hurried scratches of ink that connected them, the crescendos and decrescendos, that the music was beautiful.

"It's not the music that's missing something…It's the player."


	5. Confrontation and Guilt

The Phantom stormed around the opera house, terrorizing people as he caused rigging to loosen and sandbags to fall. His anger was outweighing his good sense.

The smallest thing had set him off; that stupid woman in his lair. What she had said had dragged old wounds to the forefront of his mind and now he couldn't stop them from running around in there. All his old insecurities had resurfaced; he felt like he had when Christine had left.

His mouth let out a twisted snarl, his arms moving by themselves and knocking over various building materials on a nearby table.

Feeling this vulnerable was not something that he was used to and it was an inconvenience that he could not allow.

With a few more haunting crashes and screams, the Phantom made his way back down the many passageways and stairs to his home.

_____

Marie waited. That's all she had been doing since he had stormed out. She had no idea what to do with herself and didn't want to go snooping around the Phantom's home in case she did something to anger him.

And that was the one thing that she didn't want to do. Marie knew he could kill; she hadn't seen it happen, but then again she didn't want to.

So she sat in the narrow couch, waiting for the Phantom to return.

As soon as he had left, the atmosphere of the house had changed. The entire space of the man's home felt depressing, as though the lived-in feeling of the home left with him. It didn't feel safe.

Sadly, that made Marie too frightened to move from her position on the couch.

When loud curses met her ears, Marie flinched. She uncurled her legs and stood, tingling pains racing up and down her limbs. She grimaced before schooling her features into a more or less pain-free look.

The ringing crash of candles hitting the stone floor caused her to jump and spin around. Her wide eyes took in the limp form of the Phantom as he leaned against the wall where the candles once stood.

Without thinking, the woman ran over to him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders trying to keep his form from falling to the ground.

"Let me alone! This attack will pass, just like all the others!" he growled out, snarling at her before pushing her away.

"Attack? Sir, you have had these before? Why don't you go to a doctor or--"

The Phantom rounded on her, his face a feral mask of fury, his eyes bright gold and filled to the brim with rage. The pain of the attack was still there, but only just. He began to advance on her trembling form.

"A DOCTOR?! You suggest that I go to a DOCTOR with this…this accursed face of mine!! Do you forget, mademoiselle, that I am not as you? That I am not flawless? That my face is what keeps me down here?!"

He now had her backed against the stone that made up his home's walls. His chest barely brushed against hers, his golden eyes narrowed so much that they were merely slits in the stony mask that was his face.

Marie felt her fuse being lit, burning away faster than normal in the face of the outraged man. She felt her good sense slipping from her grasp.

Her upper lip twisted into a sneer as she narrowed her own brown orbs at him.

"I have never mentioned your face, mask or otherwise, at any time in the...hours that I have spent here. What right do you think you have to yell at me? Me, who is nowhere near as lost as you but farther from home than you have ever been? I know that I shouldn't be here, complicating your life, and I'm sorry that I somehow ended up in your lake. But you didn't have to save me. You didn't have to help me in any way at all and yet you did. You're the one that you must blame. I'm sorry I mentioned going to a doctor, I'm sorry that I more than likely brought about your attack. And I'm extremely sorry that I'm inconveniencing you."

Her speech finished, Marie slipped from between him and the wall and went back to her seat on the couch, content to waste away there, hoping against hope that she could find a way home. She caught a glimpse of the Phantom as she sat.

He stood still, as though he were made of the very stone of his home. But with a graceful movement, filled with controlled wrath, he swept away.

Moments later, Marie heard a door slam open and shut and then the agitated playing of a violin. The vexation of the player poured off the exquisite sound, but that only served to fuel her own temper.

Marie huffed and crossed her arms, glaring daggers at the chair in front of her. A few seconds later, she sighed deeply and undid her arms to smooth out her dress. Guilt began to override her feelings; she had gone too far, in her mind, and she felt awful for snapping at him like that.

"I'll wait for the music to stop, then I'll go apologize…" Marie muttered to herself.

And so she sat on the couch, listening to ragged music coming from the unseen room. Hour after hour passed Marie by as she just sat still, waiting for a break in the heartbreaking sound.

Soon, her eye-lids were getting heavy and the couch was becoming more and more comfortable. As sleep began to steal over Marie's mind, she noticed that the underground home was silent.

Moving quickly, she shook off her lethargy and moved to the door that she had pinpointed as the source of the music.

Shaking, she raised her fist to knock on the rough wooden door. Pausing a few inches from the surface, she steeled herself for whatever was going to happen.

_Knock._

_Knock._

_Knock._

Nothing. Not one sound from the other side of the door. And then Marie heard it: the soft shuffling of shoes across the floor. And then the knob turned.

Marie jumped back a bit as the door opened a crack. A golden eye glared at her from the darkness.

"What?" The rumbling, roughness of his voice caused Marie to look at the floor in shame.

"I'm sorry. I lost my temper and I shouldn't have said those things to you in the way that I did."

The eye widened slightly before he growled out a response.

"Get to your room. I don't want to see hide nor hair of you when I leave." With that said, the door slammed shut in her face.

Marie sniffed a little before squaring her shoulders and walking a few steps away from the Phantom's door.

"Aw, who am I kidding? That made me feel even worse…" she murmured. Her shoulders slumped and Marie walked to her room dejected at the fact that she had upset the one person that could more than likely help her find out a way to get back to her time.

_____

It was near ten o'clock before Erik decided to exit his room. He had heard the sniffing and muffled sounds of crying coming from her room when she left. It had sounded to him that she was trying to stifle her tears so as not to seem weak.

He found that he did not care.

…At least, that's what he made himself think.

He moved through the darkness of his home, his mind fighting thoughts of guilt at making her cry.

He was about to leave when he heard her door open.

Erik stopped, his entire body tense at the sound of her soft gasp, the acuteness of his hearing picking up the roughness in her voice.

When he had gathered his wits about him, he turned only to find her door shutting quietly.

With a deep sigh, the Phantom ran his hand over the unmarred half of his face. He would have to figure out a way to convince her to be unafraid.

But how?

Erik walked out of his home via a side door close to his organ. The way was even darker than his home, but it didn't matter; Erik's eyes were far more used to it than even he was willing to admit.

"Perhaps if I were to bring her jewels. Women like jewels; why should she be any different?"

His arms crossed his chest as he continued to think, his feet moving along the path automatically.

"No. This Marie is unlike other women. Texas is not an easy place to live…" He trailed off, his thoughts going back to the papers he had dug up in the managers' office.

He had forgotten about the state since it had entered the Union when he was still young (only fourteen and in Rome at the time), and so had attributed it to Marie's imagination. Now he knew better.

It was then that his guilt began.

He sighed and ran his hand over his face again. Other faux pas began to reveal themselves to him as he walked toward the dusky night atmosphere: his unnecessary anger toward her; his coldness towards her situation; the incident concerning his music.

Erik hung his head in shame; he had always believed himself to be a gentleman, but apparently that had only applied to _her_.

Erik's head shot up when he set foot on the cobbled street. Only one other person lingered in the shadows near Erik's exit. The Phantom's golden eyes focused on the man's form and began stalking toward him.

"Daroga," he muttered.

"Erik," the man answered back, his accent noticeable but not too thick.

Erik stood in front of the man who had helped him survive under the opera house when Madame Giry couldn't, a solemn look on his face.

"Your supplies are here," Nadir pointed out as a wagon pulled up in front of them.

He and Erik began to unload the large wagon, placing the items on the two carts that Nadir had brought with him, as he does every time.

As soon as these were loaded, the driver was paid and Nadir and Erik began to pull the carts down the passageway back towards Erik's home.

As they put away the things, Nadir began conversing.

"Madame Giry seems to be upset with you."

Erik snorted.

"Antoinette is always upset with me nowadays. After everything that happened with _her_…" Erik lapsed into silence as his anger and hurt from Christine's betrayal was once again brought to the surface.

The old daroga just shook his head at the look on the other man's face and continued to place foodstuffs in their places. After a moment or two of silence, he once again tried to strike up a conversation.

"You seem to be buying many more supplies than usual this time, Erik."

The Phantom jumped out of his dark mind set, only to glare at the thought of why he had to buy more than he normally did.

"Yes well, one does tend to buy more when there is someone else living with them."

Nadir paused in his work to give his friend a hard look. "You didn't---"

Erik cut the older man off with a wave of his hand. "No. I didn't."

The Indian's mouth opened as though to ask a question but before he could there was a soft gasp in the kitchen doorway that caused him to turn.

Erik wondered what could have made that sound, as quiet as it was, and turned with his friend. His eyes met a very surprising sight.

Marie was standing in the doorway wide-eyed and staring. As soon as her eyes found Erik's, though, she turned and flew back to her room, leaving the two men stunned.

Nadir quickly regained his senses and gave Erik a hard look.

The Phantom found himself staring in the direction that his guest had fled, a strange feeling gripping his heart. He paid no attention to the daroga as his feet began to move toward the door, as if to follow her and…he didn't know but he felt he needed to do something for her.

"Erik! You brought another young woman down here?!"

Sharp green eyes shot to Nadir's furious face, confusion and frustration shining in them.

"Daroga. I did no such thing. You wound me old friend." His hands began to put away the items that went into the cabinet by the door, without their owner really noticing what they were doing.

"Then why is that young woman in your home?" Nadir asked his voice laced with anger, though he was clearly trying to hide it.

Erik sighed as he began to explain. He told Nadir everything; how Marie had suddenly appeared in his lake; how she had been kind to him; everything. He left nothing unsaid dealing with the woman to his old friend and by the end Nadir knew what Erik did along with his feelings on the matter.

"I want to do something for her, Nadir. I haven't been the most gentlemanly to her and wish for her to forgive my past indiscretions. But I know not how."

Nadir's look softened and he carefully rested a hand on Erik's shoulder. That seemed to snap Erik out of his thoughts, causing him to turn and stare at his old friend.

"Chocolate."

Nadir cocked an eyebrow at him. Erik just shrugged his hand off and turned to look him straight on.

"Nadir, daroga, I need you to get me the best chocolate in all of France. I do not care for the cost; just acquire it. Please."

Nadir decided not to question his friend's request and only nodded.

Erik looked relieved for a few seconds before exhaustion set in and he waved Nadir away.

"Go. I must plan."

Erik walked out of the kitchen, a thoughtful look on his face, leaving Nadir behind to wonder.

The Indian sighed and shook his head as he finished putting away Erik's food. Within a few minutes, he had left, wondering what was going through the Phantom's mind.


End file.
